Wanted Dead or Alive
by thesupernaturalcolt
Summary: "Sheriff Bayles, call the FBI. The Winchesters are back." The sheriff walks over and takes one look at the paused footage. He gasps in surprise before saying "Well I'll be damned. Those guys never truly die, do they? I'll call the BAU in the morning. They're gonna wanna see this."
1. Chapter 1

_October 2014_

Officer Tom Pickens sits at his desk going over surveillance tapes to assist the robbery and break-ins department of the Portage County Sheriff's Office. All is routine: some random guy in a ski mask shooting up the place looking to make some quick money. But it wasn't until he looked at the next clip that his day finally got interesting. A man with an eerily familiar face walks up to a gas station convenience store, beats the living shit out of a guy, and then walks out. Upon further investigation, he realizes that the guy that was beaten was actually killed and that his name was Drew Neely. He also notices that the murderer has a thing for "Busty Asian Beauties" and was most likely acting in self defense: Neely had a knife _and_ intent. The next time he watches the tape, he recognizes the killer immediately. "Sheriff Bayles, call the FBI. The Winchesters are back."

The sheriff walks over and takes one look at the paused footage. He gasps in surprise before saying "Well I'll be damned. Those guys never truly die, do they? I'll call the BAU in the morning. They're gonna wanna see this." But, he knows that something isn't quite right about this, we'll _besides_ the fact that he rose from the dead _again_. "Hey Pickens, you studied this case back in your training, correct?" Tom nods. "Well then you would know that this is Dean and he also has a brother that he would die for. So, where's Sam?" That was when a realization struck Tom. _Oh shit._ "I think he requested to see this footage today. Said he was a fed... FBI, actually."

Sheriff Bayles thought he was going to have a heart attack at the shock: _he let a Winchester into his office and didn't think twice about it._ "Screw morning, if these guys are impersonating federal agents then they need to get here asap. I'm going to call them now."

 _A few weeks later_

Sam sits on the couch watching the news trying to find local cases while Dean is grabbing a few beers from the kitchen. He was just about to turn off the television when he heard the reporter, Tammy Duncan, talk of a national breaking news update.

"Well we all thought they were dead years back, but they're not. Yes, that's correct: Sam and Dean Winchester are back." Dean just happened to be walking in at this point in time, and hearing that made him spit out his beer. "Sam, I thought Henriksen made sure we were dead." Sam shushed him and turns up the volume. "Just last month, Dean Winchester was spotted on a gas station surveillance tape murdering someone in self defense, and then the next day Sam Winchester (unbeknownst to the officers at the time) viewed the footage while in the station, posing as an FBI agent. What they have been doing all of this time or their current whereabouts are unknown to us, but the local police have requested the help of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, and sources confirm that they landed in Portage County a few days ago. That is all we have for now, but we will keep you posted."

Sam and Dean had a mutual look of _oh shit_ on their faces, and they both knew this wouldn't end well.

"So, law-boy. What do we do now?" Sam is dumbfounded. "Honestly, let's just carry on like normal and when we get caught, well, we'll figure it out when that day comes. Let's just save as many people as we can until then, and get that mark off of your arm. That's not gonna do you any good in prison." Dean rubs his eyes in disbelief as he talks. "Sounds like a plan to me. Have you found any cases yet?" Sam walks over to the library and begins his search on the internet, just to be greeted by his face on the front page of the first news site he goes to. The headline reads: Wanted Dead or Alive Because They Don't Stay Dead. "Well, at least the media got something right about our lives: we really don't stay dead for long, do we?" They both slightly chuckle before going back into their work.

"Sam, this is going to be a really long year or so for us, isn't it?" Sam looks up at Dean and nods almost apologetically. "Yeah, buckle up. It's gonna be a long ride to escape the FBI again. Probably about 100 times harder, actually. From what I hear, the unit they hired is basically the best of the best. If we're any less careful, like even the smallest bit, they'll find us in about a week."

Dean looks at Sam with a determined expression. "Well, we're going to keep off their trail for as long as we can and kill as many evil sons of bitches as we can until they get us. And when they do, we go down swinging and have Cas hook us up with some angels to bring us back. Sound like a plan?" Sam thinks for a few seconds and nods. "I'm in. And I think I just found a case. King County: three 'animal' kills in the same town in the last month. Interested?"


	2. Chapter 2

_The night of the incident_

Agent Jennifer Jareau sits in her office late one night going through the case requests. Murder in St. Louis, rapist in Austin, nothing of great importance that needed the help of the BAU. She was just about to settle for a possible serial killer in Savannah when her phone rang. At this late hour, she knew it would be of great importance, so she answered it. "Hello? Oh, hello Sheriff Bayles. Yes, I remember you back from 2004. What? You're sure? They're usually not that reckless to be seen on tape. An FBI agent? Okay, I will let my team know now and we'll meet first thing tomorrow morning. Thank you very much. Yes, we'll be sure to make sure they won't escape or come back from the dead again. We will hopefully see you tomorrow." She hangs up the phone, head in hands. Before getting up to notify Hotch, she mutters "How is this even possible?"

She gets up out of her chair and walks into the main room and up to his office. She lightly knocks on the door before coming in, sitting down at a chair, and delivering the news. "Hotch?" He looks up from his paperwork to see her distraught expression. "JJ? What's going on? Why are you still here? You should be home right now." She looks up at him and takes a deep breath. "Sam and Dean Winchester are back. Dean was spotted on a security tape at a gas station convenience store and Sam... was posing as an FBI agent in order to view the footage earlier today in Portage County, Wisconsin. Sheriff Bayles just called requesting our assistance." She looked to him for any sort of response, and could tell it was like being punched in the gut, being fooled all of these years.

"JJ, I'll call the team in the morning and gather the needed files. For now, just go home to your family. That's an order. It may be a while until you see them again."

Emily Prentiss wakes up the following morning at 6 AM to the sound of her phone ringing due to a phone call from Hotch. "Prentiss?" She yawns before answering him. "Yeah. Why are you calling so early? What's going on?" She quickly gets out of bed and starts getting dressed. "I'm not sure if the media knows yet, but the Winchesters are back again. We need you here as soon as possible. Pack for a few weeks. This will not be an easy job and will probably take us a while. We're going to Wisconsin." With that said, she starts packing immediately. "And you're sure it's them? I thought we had physical evidence that they were dead." She grabs her car keys. "I thought so too, but apparently we didn't because they're back and there's no mistaking it. Just get here now. We need to discuss this."

Prentiss walks into the elevator and meets up with Reid on the way to the conference room. In order to break the awkward silence, she speaks up. "So the Winchesters are back, any idea how this is possible?" He thinks for a second. "Actually, I have no idea."

 _The next morning after the news story_

Dean wakes up the next morning to Sam still on his laptop in the library. "Dude, did you get _any_ sleep last night? I thought we were gonna carry on like normal and not obsess over some stupid FBI agents." Sam looked up at Dean and gave him the best bitchface he could muster up with his amount of sleep. "I got a few hours here and there but that's not what matters here, Dean! What matters is us doing everything we can to not get caught. So, I did some research on what we need to do to keep them off of our trail." Dean looks at the screen, slightly impressed at his brother's work.

"Okay, so first thing's first: when we're on hunts, no more motels, or at least for a few months. As horrible as it can be sometimes, we gotta squat. Next, we're getting rid of the smartphones for disposables. Credit card fraud may be the safer route for money, but watch around whenever you're hustling pool or poker or whatever. _Always_ be on alert for _anyone_ that may come off as a fed. Haul ass if you see any of the following people: Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau (some people call her "JJ"), Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and David Rossi. In case you can't tell, those are the agents assigned to our case. Here's a group photo."

"Now that we have that all settled, let's go to King County. Oh wait, we should probably take a different car..." Dean stops Sam mid-sentence _and_ mid-step. "What do you mean we can't take Baby?" Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Dean interrupts him yet again. "You know what, don't even say it. Stupid law enforcement just _loves_ to get their grubby little hands on my car, don't they Sammy? First with those stupid leviathans and now there's finally an observant cop! Why can't everyone just be oblivious again?!"

Sam and Dean walk into the garage of the bunker and Dean goes looking for a car like a kid in a candy shop. When he finally decides on a car, he walks over to Sam with the keys for the 1965 Mustang. Sam eyes him suspiciously for his choice. "What? As far as Baby and I are concerned, this is war. And, I've been wanting to drive around in a '65 Mustang ever since we saw War's 5 years ago. You said I can't drive Baby, so I chose this one. Are we gonna stay here and mock me for my decisions or are we gonna save some people?"

 _On the plane to Wisconsin_

The team gathers around to discuss the details of the case before landing in Wisconsin. Hotch starts. "So, let's begin by discussing what we already know about the Winchesters." Derek looks through his file before pitching ideas. "Well, they're obviously psychopaths if they're capable of all of this." Hotch sighs. "Morgan, I know this may sound odd, but I don't think we should psychologically analyze this case yet. I meant that we should begin by going through their records." Rossi gawks at the file. "It would would be easier for us to discuss what they _haven't_ been accused of."

Reid starts off the list. "Their arrest records surprisingly only go back to 2005. But, they have been arrested ten times in that six year period of arrests. Twice in 2005, once in 2006, once in 2007, once in 2008 where they were presumed dead in a helicopter explosion with no corpses acquired, once in 2009, twice in 2010, and twice in 2011, and during the second arrest they were claimed dead by Sheriff Osborne in Ankeny, Iowa... with corpses to match. Charges range from theft to murder and almost everywhere in between that spectrum. They travel nationwide, so a geographical profile would be next to impossible. With that said, where do we begin?"

Garcia pops up on the monitor through video chat. "Okay so I think I found a connection between their travels. This may be a coincidence, but everywhere they have been spotted has some string of freak accidents, weird murders, or animal killings prior to them visiting. And oddly enough, it stops after they leave." Morgan eyes her suspiciously. "So are you trying to tell us that they're some form of vigilantes?" She nods. "Also, prior to their second arrest in 2011 they tended to use the names of members of classic rock bands as aliases for their fake credentials, most being FBI or other federal agencies."

JJ comes back with a cup of coffee. "Makes sense. There's lots of federal agents and we don't have have a very fast system for badge checking. But, at least we have a lead. Garcia, figure out where they're probably going next based on those search parameters." Hotch nods. "That's a good start. When you figure that out, JJ, Morgan, and Reid go there. Rossi, Prentiss, and I will stay in Wisconsin and develop a profile to better deal with them. Garcia, once you figure out where they're going next I need you to start figuring out a trail and where they might be living. The plane is going to land soon, we should get our things together."

No sooner than when they land in Wisconsin does Garcia call. "I think I have something: there's been some animal kills in King County, Washington in the same town recently. They're probably there or headed there now. Look for a black, well maintained 1967 Chevrolet Impala. It's the car they've been seen with most often." Without speaking a word they get back into the jet and tell the pilot where to go.

Upon landing in Washington, JJ, Morgan, and Reid go straight to the local police office for inquiry and are greeted by Officer Ballard. "What can I do for Uncle Sam?" He says as he sits down at his desk. "I'm SSA Jareau of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit and this is SSA Morgan and SSA Dr. Reid. We're here following a lead for a cross-country crime spree investigation and we were wondering if you've had any FBI agents or other federal employees in here to investigate the recent animal killings." The officer looks puzzled. "No, we haven't. But if we did, wouldn't you guys have a better record of that than we would?" Reid sighs, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this. "Well, the people we're looking for aren't actual agents. They're the people we're trying to catch right now. If you do see them, give us a call. We might just be a little ahead of them for once." He takes the card and smiles. "Well I'll be sure to do that. You all take care."

It's been a week and JJ, Reid, and Morgan have searched every inch of the town and surrounding areas looking for Sam and Dean. Every business, hotel, motel, bar, diner and strip club has never seen them. It was then that Morgan decides that their lead wasn't good and that they should hit the road back to Wisconsin. "Look guys, Garcia had a good point with those patterns, but we've been here doing nothing for a week and it's time we go back and do something useful." They all agree and go to the car. It would take longer for the jet to get to Washington from Quantico and then to Wisconsin than to drive, so they did just that. Morgan drove with JJ in the passenger seat and Reid in the back. About an hour into the drive, Reid starts counting cars for a statistic he's been working on about how common classic cars are. It was then that he spotted a very interesting Mustang that was probably made around... 1966? No, it was 1965. Definitely a 1965 Mustang.

The SUV passes the border into Wisconsin a few hours later. Just as he was about to doze off, his phone rings. "Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Reid. And this is? Oh hello Officer Ballard. You saw them? When? Okay. Thank you for letting us know. If it's not too much to ask, can you keep tabs on them? We needed to get back to the rest of our team. Would you mind giving us a physical description and maybe telling us what car they were driving? Oh. A 1965 Mustang? Yes, I am familiar with the car. Did you by any chance keep a record of the aliases they used? No? Oh well. Thanks for your information. It really helps us."

Morgan turns around. "Reid... tell me that that wasn't the officer telling us that they were there." Reid runs a hand through his hair. "Actually, it was. Looks like we weren't following a bad lead. We were just so ahead of them that we didn't leave them enough time to catch up. Apparently it's not always good to be two steps ahead," he says with a shrug and a small chuckle. "It's not funny."

 _Later that night_

Sam and Dean sit on the floor of the abandoned house they're squatting in and Sam uses the neighbor's wifi on his laptop to pull up the news. "Sources confirm that the FBI visited King County and left today after a week of investigation and have determined that the Winchesters are _not_ there. They claim that no one had gone to the police department posing as agents and they also think that because the Winchesters _and_ their most commonly associated car, a well-maintained black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, were not spotted here that subsequently there was no reason to further investigate there and traveled back to Wisconsin."

They shared a look of disbelief. Sam smiles and says "Now aren't you glad I told you to take a different car?"


	3. Chapter 3

Derek Morgan walks into the Portage County Sheriff's Office with a defeated expression. Under his advice they left early, and because of that they are that much farther from catching the Winchesters. It was because of him that those boards were still up and those files still out. It was because of him that Sam and Dean aren't in federal custody at the moment. With that in mind, he goes up to Hotch.

Hotch looks up from his work to get an update from Morgan. "I take it the Winchesters weren't there. I'll call Garc-"

"No, she was entirely correct. They were there." He maintains eye contact, despite his obvious self-disappointment and fear.

Hotch has a surprised expression for a few seconds, trying to register why exactly the Winchesters weren't with him, until it turns into one of disappointment, realizing what most likely occurred. "Morgan, what happened?"

Morgan pauses, attempting to find the right words. After all, what do you say to the man that has had complete faith in you since the beginning when you blow the mission? "We stayed there for a week. We interviewed anyone and everyone in town. There was no sign of them until-"

"Until what?"

"Officer Ballard called as we were crossing the border into Wisconsin saying that they had came and asked for exactly the information we thought they would." Although he is scared of what is to come, he looks Hotch straight in the eye. "I take full responsibility for this. It was under my suggestion that we left town. I should've been more patient."

For some reason, _that_ was the moment when Reid finally put two two together. "1965 Mustang." He mumbles. "That's it! 57 minutes into the drive we were on the interstate and on the opposite side of the road I saw a 1965 Mustang!" He shouts his newest discovery, running over to the desk that contains a few maps.

Everyone looks up from their work, slightly confused. Morgan walks over to him. "Reid, what're you trying to get at here?"

He pauses for a moment, thinking. "How did I miss this before! So a 1965 Mustang is driving into town at approximately 70 miles per hour" he says, drawing on the map of Washington. "Which would mean that if it continued that speed until the speed limit changed to 55 and so on, it would reach the police station in approximately 45 minutes. Add in time for traffic and/or gas stops and that would mean that it would take them approximately one hour. But, they would need to change to look like federal agents. They're probably squatting so that we can't track their lodging so take another hour out to look for abandoned houses and change. Let's say that that's a 30 minute drive from whatever abandoned house they're in. Which would put them at the police station approximately an hour and a half after officer Ballard called saying that they had just left. Plenty of time to investigate. So, I guess my point is that it was my fault that we let the Winchesters get away. When the officer said that they were driving a 1965 Mustang I just considered it a coincidence, but clearly it's not. I guess _nothing_ really is a coincidence in cases like these."

Hotch's phone starts to ring. "It's Strauss. Reid, we'll continue this later." He quickly walks out of the room and answers the call.

She starts talking before he gets the chance to greet her. "Aaron, this is unlike your team to be taking so long on a case."

"With all due respect, this is anything but a normal case. So, we're going to need more than just a few days to solve this."

She huffs. "Well, we already have a large and exponentially growing pile of cases back in Quantico that demand you and your team's attention. So, if you want to maintain the reputation of this unit then I suggest you go away from this case for now until you find a new lead and and a fresh mind. I heard your last one went cold."

"But if we give up on a case this quickly wouldn't that also not help the reputation of the BAU?"

She thinks for a moment. "Aaron, what are you insinuating with that proposition?"

"I'm insinuating that giving up on this case would hurt us just as much if not more than if we were to delay other cases because of it."

"Are you defying an order Aaron?"

He pauses, weighing the consequences. "Yes. I believe fully in my team's abilities and I am positive that if anyone can apprehend these men it's us."

She sighs, knowing that this was not going to end the way she wanted. "You can stay for one more week, maximum. When you get back to Quantico, I want you to see me in my office. This conversation is not one that will be effective over the phone. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes I believe we do. Thank you for understanding."

As he hung up the phone Hotch felt as if a portion of the weight of the world was lifted off of his shoulders. Sure, Strauss was no longer on his case for the rest of the week, but until Sam and Dean Winchester are caught, there are no words to accurately describe the stress and pressure inflicted on him because of one case. To be the one that everyone goes to for guidance even though they all know the same information, to deal with the politics of such a controversial situation, to know that you and some of the greatest minds in the government were fooled by two criminals. Everyone's reputation was on the line with this case, and if it doesn't end well, Hotch knows that his career will be over. With that forever in his mind, he walks into the conference room where the team was set up. "We have a week before we have to go back to normal cases so we need to make this profile quickly and put it into action. Are we ready to start?"

The case is over and Sam and Dean sit in the bunker talking over a case of beer. Well, _talking_ isn't the best word for it, this interaction could better described as a silent reflection of the hunt while sitting at the same table and drinking from the same six-pack. The physical toll, the emotional toll, and what it all meant were rushing through their minds; not to mention the current manhunt and how they were going to avoid it. They managed to evade the FBI once, but they knew the odds of them doing it twice: not good at all. This whole situation was weighing heavily on Dean, knowing that this was all his fault. He didn't know it, but Sam was thinking that it was his fault too. They both could see the misery in the other's eyes, but the real question was what they were going to do about it.

Dean clears his throat. "So, that sucked." He says, referring to the hunt and its overall conditions.

Sam nods. "Yeah, it really did. What even _was_ that house?" The attempt at humor obvious in his voice, intentions set on lightening the mood.

Dean laughs at the memory of the horrible abandoned house. "Yeah I know right! So glad to be back here with indoor plumbing... that house was messed up." His mind floats back to the horrible memories of the bathroom with appliances so rusted that they were deemed unsafe to use, well, the _entire house_ was that way. To this day he still shudders thinking about that house. Which reminds him about something important... something very important. "Remind me again how paper beats rock?"

Sam practically spits out his beer because of his laughter. "I didn't hear you complaining about it when you would win." The look of triumph is very prevalent on his face at the moment. "As I recall, your words were 'Too bad so sad, that's just life Sammy.'"

Dean gives his best bitchface, knowing that it won't even slightly live up to Sam's, but tries to anyways. "And I also remember saying, more times than I would've liked, 'Forget that. I was wrong.'"

Sam raises his eyebrow in suspicion. He knew his memory wasn't always the greatest, but he definitely would've remembered _that_. "Dean, you've never said that phrase in your entire life."

Dean puts his bottle of beer in the air and downs it in a matter of seconds. "You're damn right I didn't! I never would've told you 'too bad so sad' or told you that a rock can be beat with a sheet of paper!"

Sam chuckles, shaking his head at his brother's stupidity. "Sure you didn't. You're just jealous that I got to sleep in somewhat of a bedroom."

Dean reaches for another beer. "Sammy you're 2 for 2 tonight! I never wanna even step in such a shithole ever again."

Sam raises his bottle for a toast. "I'll drink to that. Law enforcement really sucks sometimes, don't they?" They clink bottles.

Dean nods. "That they do. That they do." He says, his voice fading a bit as he says that last sentence. "You know what? I really miss these moments where we can just kick back and have fun for a few minutes. Hunting is great and all but man does it take a lot outta you."

Sam agrees, rubbing his eyes as he feels his exhaustion catching up to him. "Dean, you were a demon just last week. I don't blame you. But I will say this: I can tell that we're both exhausted. I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed."

Rossi goes over the files for the case one more time, trying to confirm his theory for the behavior of Dean. "So, I was thinking. Dean Winchester obviously has a hero complex, and has almost paternal behavior when Sam is involved. Do you think it's possible that they were neglected growing up and Dean became a surrogate father to Sam?"

Prentiss scratches her head, this shouldn't make sense, but it does. "But a key to being a good father is usually empathy to a certain extent and someone capable of this isn't capable of empathy to any degree. The only thing is, all signs point to Dean being a caregiver to Sam."

Reid flips to the page in the file containing the original profile, completed by another branch of the FBI. "Well the previous profilers thought that this was a dominant and submissive duo with Dean being the dominant and Sam the submissive. Maybe that's partially true. Maybe Sam isn't submissive by nature at all but is submissive to Dean like one would be submissive to their father. So, what triggered this?"

Morgan listens intently, trying to be of worth to the investigation again. "Maybe their dad was arrested for something or killed? I'll have Garcia look him up." He walks out of the room to get a little more quiet before calling her. "Hey baby girl, I need you to look something up for me."

Back in the conference room, Hotch decides to join in. "Good thinking, maybe their father is some kind of trigger for them."

JJ looks up from her case notes. "Well, I think it's pretty safe to say that Sam is a trigger for Dean and Dean for Sam. That's usually customary for family duos, and that seems to be heightened in this particular case. Maybe we could use that when we go to arrest them, whenever that may be."

Rossi brings his left hand to his chin in thought. "Normally I would say so, but I don't think that would work. If they're each triggers for the other and are extremely armed and even more dangerous we wouldn't want to poke at that."

JJ seems to be confused. "So how would we-"

Knowing that the team is getting ahead of themselves, Hotch intervenes. "We can come back to arrest strategies later. Right now we should focus on making our next move."

Morgan walks back into the conference room and sits down at his spot around the large table. "You know what's bugging me? How did they manage to keep their arrest records dormant until 2005 and then suddenly spike like they have?"

JJ shrugs. "They're crafty, that's probably the easiest way to put it."

Morgan looks over to her. "But if they're so crafty how did they get arrested so many times in the past 9 years?"

Reid looks up from the file with a horrifying thought. "Guys, what if they _wanted_ to get caught?"

Dean wakes up the next morning with the urge to shoot someone, a typical Tuesday with the mark, so he settles on target practice with an added twist thanks to the color printer Sam insisted on installing when they moved into the bunker. He gets up out of bed and pulls some pants over his boxers and a shirt over his head as he walks out of his bedroom.

He heads to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and while he waits he goes to Sam's laptop. He goes back in his search history (ignoring the questionable entries) until he finds what he was looking for: the picture of the BAU that Sam showed him. He crops and enlarges each head and prints them out. As soon as he hits print, the coffee is done. He walks back over to the kitchen and pours himself a cup, black. Coffee in hand, he goes back to the printer and begins to cut out each head and paste each one onto the targets. Proud of his work, he takes the targets over to the shooting range with his favorite gun.

He pulls out Hotch's face first and attaches it to the clip. He sends it flying back, and no sooner does he start shooting. **Bam!** "That's for finding us." **Bam!** "That's for not letting me drive Baby!" **Bam!** "That's for making me live in a shithole of a house for a few days." **Bam! Bam! Bam!** "That's just because I hate law enforcement." **Bam!** "That's for driving Sammy insane trying to protect us." **Bam!** "That's for not doing your job right the first time."


	4. Chapter 4

Sam wakes up that morning surprisingly peacefully, but still extremely tired. It doesn't take long for the smell of coffee to lure him from his bed and into the kitchen, not even bothering to tame his "bead-head" or put on anything more than a random shirt and pants. He trudges along to the kitchen, waking up more and more with each step. He walks along past the door leading to the range, thinking he heard Dean mumbling in there but choosing to ignore it until he gets a cup of coffee.

Mug in hand he starts pouring from the pot, but instantly drops it to the floor with a loud crash when he hears the indistinguishable sound of a gun firing multiple times followed by Dean screaming at someone. He jolts up, fully alert and starts running toward where he heard the shot come from. "DEAN!"

He reaches the door and opens it forcefully, so forcefully it easily could've come off of his hinges if it wasn't for the super-duty quality of every part of the bunker. The tension that was building visibly relaxes when when he sees that Dean just got a little too caught up in the heat of the moment during some target practice. On the contrary, Dean whips around pointing the gun at Sam in surprise. Out of reflex, Sam reaches for his gun, but realizes that he never brought it from his room. Silently cursing at himself for the mistake, he raises his hands up in surrender to calm Dean down, and it seems to work. Dean finally has a moment of clarity to figure out exactly what's happening and puts the gun down. "Sam? What the hell are you doing here? I could've shot you!"

Sam takes a moment, realizing what he meant and what could've happened, but dismisses it with a slight shrug. "Honestly, that thought hadn't occurred to me. I just heard a gun and you shouting so I came running."

Dean shakes his head at his brother's sudden stupidity. En route to putting his hands in his face he notices Sam's feet. "Goddammit Sammy, what'd you do getting over here that you'd cut up your feet that bad?" He takes a closer look for a second. "Shit, is that glass? And correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think feet are supposed to be bright red."

 _The coffee pot and mug._ With the adrenaline and fear wearing off, Sam finally realizes what he did getting to Dean and doubles over in pain. "Dean... need your help. Get the first aid kit. Hurry." He hobbles over to the nearest table, which happens to be all the way over in the library. Dean meets him there, first aid kit in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.

Dean sits down at the next seat over and gestures for Sam to put his foot on his lap so he can better reach it. He pulls out the tweezers and begins picking out the shards of glass. As he reaches for the biggest shard, they both hiss: Sam from actual pain and Dean from sympathy pain. "That's gonna need stitches. I can do it but you're better at it. Take your pick."

"I can do it." Pulling his foot back to within his reach, he hisses in pain before putting it back on his lap. "Nope, can't do it."

Not needing anything more from him, Dean takes out the dental floss and gets to work, sewing the cuts closed as gently as he can and finishing them off by pouring whiskey over them. Sam audibly hisses at the burning sensation and Dean mutters his apologies.

After all of the burns and glass are attended to, Dean wraps some gauze around Sam's foot for extra protection. "That'll do it. Be careful next time. You're slacking, Sammy."

Both brothers get up and return to what they were doing: Sam eating breakfast (after grabbing his gun) and Dean turning FBI agents into swiss cheese at the range. Sam finally finishes his cup of coffee, a jolt of energy keeping him alert. So, when the front door to the bunker is unlocked and opened, Sam runs over, armed and ready to fire. His grip relaxes when he is finally able to make out a face.

"What's up bitches?" The familiar red-head walks into the bunker, same as before. She drops her bags and goes to hug Sam.

"Hey Charlie! You're back from Oz?" He asks, still unsure of the exact situation at hand.

She nods. "Yep, all's good there. So... What've you guys been up to since I left? And where's Dean?"

Sam takes a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start. "So much you have no idea. Dean's at the range, we can swap stories once he gets back. Seems like he had some steam to blow off."

"Sounds good." She says, snaking past Sam and heading toward the range. _He should know by now that I don't have the patience for that._ She reaches the door and swiftly pushes it open, once again scaring the shit out of Dean in the middle of target practice.

"Seriously you too? Can anyone knock or open a door normally anymore or is it just me?" Dean shouts out, half serious and half jokingly.

"Hey Dean." She says, walking up to hug him and talk. "How ya been? Wait, save it. Sam said if you come out of here we can swap stories." She says, a happy and excited grin spreading across her face.

"No offense, but you're not gonna want to know what went on after you left. It's not pretty by any means."

She shrugs. "Isn't it always?" She says, eyeing the thoroughly abused targets. "Anyways, you'll want to hear mine."

JJ looks at Reid as if he had just grown a second head. "What do you mean they wanted to get caught? What criminal in their right mind _wants_ to get caught?"

"Well we've seen it before haven't we? Serial killers or other criminals that just get tired of the chase, constantly looking over their shoulder, not knowing who to trust. Maybe they're just tired of running." Reid replies, as if it was a normal thought to have at the moment.

Rossi has another idea. "Choosing when and how you get caught just to escape every time is the ultimate form of power to criminals, is it not?"

A realization strikes Reid, one that he hates to admit. Rossi was right and his guess was far from correct. "He's right. Maybe this isn't for a lack of will to go on but for a deeper desire to have more control. Feel more powerful, and therefore better and smarter than the people who are supposed to control you. They're not tired of the chase, they want a challenge, that's _if_ they actually did want to get arrested all of these times."

Morgan has another theory. "What if it's just them devolving over a long period of time?"

Prentiss looks at him, not fully believing that. "But usually devolution is rapid, right? I don't think ten years qualifies as rapid by any means. Plus, would devolving criminals be able to escape imprisonment every time? I agree with Rossi and Reid on this one."

Not necessarily..." Reid starts, his brain freshly stimulated and spitting out ideas left and right. "Maybe it's a mixture of the two. You see, devolution by definition is descent or degeneration to a lower or worse state. We commonly think of devolution as rapid because that's the most common thing and easiest to associate with, but there are rare cases where the devolution does, in fact, happen slowly. But when it hit and Dean got arrested in 2005, maybe it triggered a psychological response that subconsciously made him love the attention and thrill of escaping the police and the sense of power and authority it gave him. A chain reaction, one triggers the other." Reid finishes triumphantly, leaving the room dumbfounded for a few seconds, similar to what he usually achieves during an investigation.

Hotch sits silently for some time, absorbing everything. Weighing the probability of each conjecture being correct and, more importantly, how that specific piece of information benefits the investigation. While rare, the scenario Reid described does happen and seems very likely to be what happened. But, mistakes in cases such as these are fatal and there have been too many so far. Not just on the behalf of his team, or the entire bureau. No, these mistakes have been made by everyone that had ever dealt with these men. Simply thinking of all of the mind games played over the years made his blood boil. He couldn't take this anymore. The stress and pressure added to the seemingly impossible nature of this task pushed his final button and pushed him past the edge of calm and caused him to land in the realm of anger and frustration.

"We're going to need more than just conjecture here! We have a week to arrest two of the most clever and dangerous criminals of all time and all we're doing is sitting around throwing around guesses! Doesn't this concern anyone else besides me?"

The entire team turns to look at Hotch with complete confusion. This wasn't the man they knew. Morgan, being the natural people-pleaser, puts a hand up in the air in an attempt to calm him down. "Hotch, it's okay. We can figure this out, we always do."

Hotch looks up with an expression on his face that the team had never seen before that day, not even when Haley died. It was a look of defeat. "Don't you see? We have nothing to go on because there is nothing concrete to go on. Let's face it, Sam and Dean Winchester cannot be profiled."

At that exact moment, dead silence fell upon not just that conference room, but the entire police department. Everyone was thinking the exact same thought: Aaron Hotchner had given up?

But, before anyone could move or say anything, he raises his right pointer finger in protest. "But, that does not mean that our job is over. There are other methods not normally used by the BAU that will probably work better."

Cracking these men will be quite possibly the hardest task this unit has ever taken on, but that doesn't mean that they can't do it. Not yet at least.

Sam, Dean and Charlie sit around that same table that Dean patched Sam up at just that morning. They don't think about it, but so much of their lives within these last few years have taken place at this very table. The countless memories, drunken and sober, that happened at this table still replay occasionally in their heads; not to mention all of the late nights spent researching. The good memories usually being drunken conversations pieced together the next morning over coffee, the bad ones unsuccessfully shooed away. Dean sitting at the table when they first moved in, practically crying at the impact of the trials on Sam while he was hiding away in his room trying to recover. Sam the day Metatron stabbed Dean, crying and smashing his fists so hard into the wood that he was amazed it didn't break on the spot. Over the years Sam and Dean have lived at the bunker, this table has been where their lives have happened.

Today, luckily, contained at least one good memory at the table. There were a few beers left over from the previous night, but those were long gone between the three of them. Charlie talks of her adventure in Oz: fighting the war and winning. Sam, being the book lover of the two brothers, found the differences between the books and reality fascinating, while Dean couldn't care less. Truthfully, that was where the alcohol went. "... so yeah, that's what happened in Oz. Your turn!"

Sam and Dean both huff, not quite knowing where to start: angels, demons, mark of Cain, Metatron, Abbadon, heaven, hell? The silent conversation between Sam and Dean goes on for a while, Charlie sitting there awkwardly not knowing what they're saying.

Sam raises his eyebrows and nudges his head at Dean. _Go on, start._

Dean gives an angry and confused look directed toward Sam. _What? Why me? You're the chatty one right now._

Sam Winchester bitchface. _Oh I don't know, maybe because you stuffed an angel inside me at the point in time that we should start at?_

Dean Winchester bitchface. _Seriously? You're giving me that excuse again? I told you I'm sorry!_

Sam Winchester bitchface.

Dean scowls at Sam. _Fine. I'll start._ "So remember when Sam was acting really weird the last time you were over here?"

She nods. "Yeah. What was up with that?"

Dean looks down, rubbing his eyes. It's obvious he regrets his decisions, but that still doesn't change things and he knows it. "Well that was because I had an angel inside him to heal him after he almost died in the trials."

Charlie stares at him, wide-eyed. "Is that how I was brought back to life?"

Sam looks up. "What? You died?"

Charlie looks over to Dean. "You never told him? _Seriously?!_ "

Feeling a bit too confronted, he breaks it up. "So what? There's a lot that you guys don't know that you probably should. Hell, I'm sure there's a lot that I should know about that I don't, so I guess it's good that we're doing this now." So, for the next hour or so, Dean talks about the adventures they've had in the past year: the good, the bad, and the just plain hilarious. They laughed together reliving the time Dean could communicate with animals and practically became a dog. Laughed even harder at Sam's yoga shorts. They cried at the loss of Kevin, even though Charlie never even met him.

"He seems like a cool kid. We'd probably get along, maybe even be best friends!"

She was in complete awe of the mysterious Mark of Cain and the Knights of Hell. Her sexuality peeked through slightly while listening to Abbadon stories, but Sam and Dean chose to ignore those actions for the moment. She couldn't help but feel some sympathy for Castiel with his problems in heaven, and then she was plain infuriated when it came to Metatron; and this was _before_ they had said that Metatron killed Dean.

The night at the homeless compound was a story that took both Sam and Dean to tell, neither could retell the story without tearing up, so they rotated. Sam tells of the events leading to it and of the fight. The moment the angel blade penetrates Dean's skin is the moment that Dean has to take over, from what he recollected and from what Sam told him afterwards, all leading up to when he became a demon.

Charlie kept her involvement minimal, _more story less talking_. There were times when she couldn't control herself, and this was one of them. As Dean describes the feeling of transforming into a demon, she can't help but mutter a soft "Holy shit."

"The power... the feeling that you're invincible, it's like nothing I'd ever experienced. The literal liquid bravery just coursing through your veins making you so much stronger than you ever thought possible. There's nothing else like it, _and I had loved every minute of it._ "


	5. Chapter 5

(A/N): To all of my readers I am SO SORRY that it took me so long to get you a readable update (or at least I hope this one is readable). I was at camp and had limited computer access, and when the update had problems I couldn't correct it until now. But here's chapter 5. Let's hope there's no problems :)

When the Men of Letters took on the 3 year project of the Lebanon bunker they never would have imagined it to have the fate that it did, or the organization itself to have that fate either. It was nice, but it wasn't the best bunker they had made. There were flaws, certain touches that should've been added but never were: the "small" amount of bookshelves being one. But, they made sure to make up for it wasn't with other artifacts and such.

The Wicked Witch in 1935 wasn't a surprise to these librarians, but to have it completely deserted and then later inhabited by hunters of all people? No way. And never would a Man of Letters be or raise a hunter, they were superior to the hunters. Who needs brawn when you have brains?

But they were wrong: the legacy John Winchester raised two of the world's best hunters, none other than Sam and Dean Winchester.

Every Man of Letters that inhabits this place doesn't change much, just enough to feel at home. Sam and Dean were no exception. Over the years, the duo has attempted to make the bunker theirs. Usually the most they could do is add some furniture somewhere, rearrange some things, change the mattress, hang some photos, there's not much you can do to personalize something like that. Dean tried the hardest, trying to give him and his brother something they haven't had in far too long. Sam wanted nothing to do with it. He knew disaster followed him like a hungry dog, and he refuses to get attached to anything for just that reason. But, that doesn't mean that he couldn't add a few personal touches to it.

While Dean personalized for comfort, Sam personalized for functionality and safety. For instance, Dean puts in a memory foam mattress, it remembers him. Sam, on the other hand, installs hiding places for the essentials (salt, guns, holy water, and spare angel blades) within the preexisting furniture.

Shortly after putting Crowley in the bunker's dungeon, Sam got to work on the very table that he, Dean, and Charlie are sitting at right now. The creature was crafty, and Sam spent a lot of time there. So, Sam figured it was worth a shot. A small container of holy water within the wood with a small trap door, a packet of salt in the corner underneath the table, and an angel blade taped underneath in the middle. He and Dean had their own sides to this table, so they were all within arm's reach, and unknown to anyone but him.

This was the point in time when they would be discovered.

"The power... the feeling that you're invincible, it's like nothing I'd ever experienced. The literal liquid bravery just coursing through your veins making you so much stronger than you ever thought possible. There's nothing else like it, and I had loved every minute of it."

Such a statement coming from this Winchester was enough to leave anyone speechless. Naturally, Sam and Charlie simply couldn't find the words. So, he went on.

"As a human you have a conscience to worry about, always thinking about the 'right thing to do'" he says, using air quotes for emphasis. "But as a demon, you just don't care. If you can, you will. I wanted to kill someone, I did. I wanted some karaoke, I found a bar and a beer. I wanted a girl, well, ya know." He continues, with with a raised eyebrow and an elbow nudging toward Charlie's side.

At that very moment, Sam had felt as if he was transported back in time to when he was curing Dean.

 _"In fact, your uh... guilt-ridden, weight-of-the world bro has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I'm loving the new model: lean, mean, Dean."_

Dean laughs for a second, clearly enjoying the memory. "You know, Crowley can be a pretty funny drunk. But, man, does it take a lot to get the king of Hell drunk! Ha! Those were some great times, or so it seemed at the time. You know, that was probably the happiest I had been in a long time... considering the circumstances."

 _"You notice I tried to get as far away from you as possible? Away from your whining, your complaining. I chose the King of Hell over you! Maybe I was just … tired of babysitting you. Or always having to yank your lame ass out of the fire since … forever. Or maybe … Maybe it was the fact that my mother would still be alive if it wasn't for you. That your very existence sucked the life out of my life!"_

In Sam's research on the Mark of Cain, he had learned that it can turn someone back into a demon, but he had never imagined that that could happen so fast. So he couldn't be a demon again, right? It was too soon, but it's not like there's an equation or timetable for this kind of topic, right? In a moment of panic, he quickly grabs the holy water within the table and splashes it on Dean, slightly hitting Charlie. At the same time, Sam grabs the angel blade and holds it at Dean's throat. They both flinch at the sudden motion and start to wipe the water from their face.

Dean looks at Charlie, not quite knowing what to do or what made Sam go over the edge. "Sammy... what are you doing?"

Sam grumbles. "Only Dean gets to call me Sammy."

Dean looks around, immensely confused. "What're you talking about? It's me, Dean."

Sam shakes his head. "No, I don't think it is. I think you're still a demon. I think that stupid ritual was crap and you've just been pretending to be human."

Dean sighs, finally knowing what's going on. "Sam... look at me. I'm not a demon."

Sam suddenly adds a bit more pressure to the blade. "I don't believe you."

Charlie suddenly joins in, knowing that she's the only one Sam will listen to right now. "Sam. Calm down. You threw holy water at us, right?"

Sam nods.

"Well I don't have much experience hunting, but I do know that holy water burns and sizzles when it comes in contact with a demon. It's all over Dean. Look at him. He's fine. He's not a demon."

He does what she says and, to Sam's relief, there's no sizzling or burning of any kind. He drops the blade.

Dean simply looks annoyed now. "Seriously? Where did you even get the holy water? I thought we were out and that was why you needed me to get more!"

Sam stays quiet, letting Dean work out his anger. "Dean, we are out. I uh... improved the furniture in here a while ago and just didn't tell anyone."

Dean and Charlie's facial expressions change from those of annoyance to curiosity. "How?" They both say, truly wanting to know.

Sam grins, playing a game of his own. "If If tell you then my secret additions won't be secret, now will they?"

"Sammy, you can't just pull holy water out of your ass and hold an angel blade to my throat and expect us to move on without an explanation."

Sam gives up, knowing that he won't win. He shows them them some of secret areas around the bunker he made for emergency situations, cleverly hiding some of the ones he may need to use in the near future.

Dean gawks at everything, wondering how Sam had the time for this and how he never noticed. "Dude, you need to get laid."

* * *

Later that night while Sam was sleeping, Dean walked over to Charlie's room. He knocks lightly on the door, mission in mind. "Hey," he whispers. "Can I come in? I need to ask you something."

Charlie was about to fall asleep, but woke up when she heard what she assumed was Dean's voice. After lazily pulling on sweatpants, she walked over to the door and opened it.

Without needing another word, Dean steps in. "Charlie. You up for some late night hacking?"

She smirks at him, as if silently saying ALWAYS but decides to play along a bit. "Depends... who am I hacking?"

He looks down, thinking maybe that this was a bad idea. "The FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Wait, so you want me to hack into a government server?" Even for him this was just a whole new level of wrong.

Charlie shrugs. "I've been wanted before... why not?"

* * *

"Don't you see? We have nothing to go on because there is nothing concrete to go on. Let's face it, Sam and Dean Winchester cannot be profiled... but, that does not mean that our job is over. There are other methods not normally used by the BAU that will probably work better."

Everyone looks around the room, astonished expressions the most prevalent. Profiling was all that they knew. It was their specialty. What else was there that they could do if they couldn't profile? It was like telling a fish that they could safely walk on land.

For the first time in a while, Reid doesn't know what to say or think. The Winchesters weren't in custody so they couldn't study body language, they couldn't profile for some reason, there are no recent crime scenes, and no known relationships. What was there to do?

"So, all of the things we have profiled so far we can use to our advantage. So, with that said these men seem to put family as their first priority, and that is how we will find them. It is highly unlikely that such a large amount of people would not have a sufficient paper trail, so we treat the family as the unsub rather than the unsub themselves. Start with the mother's side and then go to the father's. Mothers usually leave the most impact in a nuclear family setting."

Something about this doesn't seem right to any of them. Rossi was just the only one brave enough to speak up. "I helped found this unit and I've never heard of doing something like this."

Simultaneous "me either"s were heard from the team.

Hotch is dead set on defending his views. "As unit chief I stand by my decision and that's final."

Feeling one of his headaches coming again, Reid stands up and finds an excuse to leave the room. "I'll call Garcia and let her know."

"Why hello my favorite doctor. I was beginning to think you forgot about me." She says, a smile spreading across her face.

"Okay. So Hotch said that we aren't supposed to profile the Winchesters, but profile their family. So I need you to get all of the information possible on them and get back to us."

She begins typing as as she talks. "So I get this case is crazy but are we still going to D.C. Comic Con in a few weeks? I already have my costume prepared and I absolutely can not go with Kevin. Nope. Not happening."

"No I should be able to go... Strauss called Hotch and told him we only have one more week for this case until another lead comes up. I already made my Doctor costume a while ago too." He says, a smile starting to form.

"Seriously? A week? That's a bit harsh... speaking of which, this search is a bit harsh. I'm gonna need some parameters."

"Um... focus on the parents more than anybody. Get a rough timeline of their lives and we can figure out the rest. Hotch said start with the mom."

She tries to use her system to look up the life history of Mary Winchester, and something weird happened. "Reid... I think someone is hacking into our system. Oh crap."

"Garcia? What's going on?" He says, fast walking into the conference room and putting her on speaker.

"I put in the name Mary Winchester and my screen went black. I think I can fix it but it'll take a while." She hangs up and suddenly words appear on the screen:

 **Stay away from my boys.**


	6. Chapter 6

"No no no no no this is not happening right now. How do people always manage to hack into my system like that?" She mutters, frantically trying to turn her monitors back on. "Penelope, situations like these are why we update regularly. Calm down. Call Kevin."

Kevin sits at his desk on his computer doing his normal work when his phone rings. "Hey, what's up?"

She nervously paces her office, trying in any way to calm down. "Kevin, I've been hacked."

"What? Again? How is this possible? I've seen you update like a madman. Hell, I even helped on the last one." Kevin says, fast-walking to her office.

"If I knew I wouldn't be calling. Just get here now. This isn't like the other hacks. Something is seriously wrong." She hangs up the phone, putting on the spare jacket she keeps in her office. "Someone finally got my request for more AC! At least something good is happening today." She lets out a sigh and sees her breath. "Holy crap. I know I asked for cold but I didn't ask for it to be _this cold_." Her teeth start chattering and she grabs for her hot tea she made that morning. "C'mon Kevin... I'm freaking out here."

A few minutes later Kevin bursts through the door, laptop in hand and ready to go. "I'm here. Let's fix this. Have you seen any of the coding used for the hack yet?"

The screens are still black.

"Well obviously you didn't. Okay then. Let's get these screens turned back on."

She turns around and gives him the best annoyed expression she can make at the moment. "If I could don't you think I would've already?! I told you before that this isn't like the ones before. I can't fix this if I can't even turn on the screens!"

He raises his hands in surrender. "Woah, just cal-"

She points her finger accusingly. "Don't you dare tell me to calm down. I will _not_ calm down until I get my system working again. And even then it'll only be a for a second because then I plan on finding whoever did this."

"And what? Penelope, we both know you won't do anything. Now let's focus. What were you doing when you got hacked?"

"Are you saying this was _my_ fault? Oh my god you think it's my fault. I mean how could it not be? I was the only person in here. I'm slipping." She says, eyes beginning to water. "I used to be great, and now I can't even turn on some computer screens. Now... now I'm useless."

He runs over, dropping to his knees to comfort her as she sits in her chair. "Hey its gonna be alright, okay? I'm here and we'll fix this together, but we can only do this if you relax a bit and tell me exactly what happened from about 5 minutes before the hack until you called. Can you do that?" He walks back over to his chair and opens his laptop.

She nods. "I was in here, waiting for a call like I normally do. I was looking at the Winchesters' arrest records looking for anything weird, and then my phone rang. Hotch wanted me to look at the family history for their parents and when I searched Mary Winchester my screens went black."

Kevin looks puzzled. "Was there anything else on the screens or were they just black?"

She nods again. "There was a single message on that screen right there. It said 'stay away from my boys.' But after about a minute it went away to what it is now." Suddenly, the lights start to flicker. "Kevin, I don't think I've _ever_ been this scared."

He looks her straight in the eye and puts his laptop down. "But you really have no reason to be... I mean, as long as you stay away. If you ever get your system working again, that is. You probably won't, but if you do I suggest you guys move on with your lives."

She stares at him with confused eyes and her mouth slightly agape. "Kevin, what're you saying?"

He laughs, or maybe cackles is a better word for it. "Well honey, 'Kevin' isn't exactly here right now. Nice to meet you Penelope. I'm Mary."

* * *

Charlie slightly hunches over her laptop, clearly ready to start hacking. "Okay BAU, let's see what you've got. Should I time myself on this one?" She types in some code, trying to access the files on Garcia's computer screens using the IP address of the BAU. Not exactly child's play, but also not too challenging if you know what you're doing. Charlie doesn't realize this until the attempt, but Kansas isn't exactly the ideal spot when hacking into computers in Virginia. "Oh you are one smart cookie Miss Penelope. External override that requires a pre-authorized hard line... you really don't want to be hacked."

An hour of unsuccessful attempts later she closes her laptop in frustration. "Oh you are good. Let's see what I can do later."

She leaves her room searching out Dean. _Maybe if I bounce some ideas off of him I can figure out a way around this override._ She goes to his room, nothing. Sam's room, nothing. The shooting range, nothing. The garage, Impala present but not Dean. _Okay well then he's probably still in the bunker._ Not in the library or the kitchen. _That means he's probably in the-_ "Oh hey Dean! I've been looking for you. Listen-"

"No, you listen-"

 _Oh god, he knows I can't do it. Here it comes._

"Thank you so much for all that. I know hacking into government servers isn't easy business, but now I think we're in the clear I really owe you one on this." He says, gripping her shoulders.

Huh? She shakes her head from the confusion. "Dean... that wasn't me. I can't get past her security."

"Charlie, what're you talking about? I just saw on the news that they were hacked by someone, most likely associated with us. How could you nothave done this?" He asks, dumbfounded.

She shrugs. "Silent fan that's an amazing hacker?"

He raises an eyebrow as if to say something really sarcastically. "Better than you? And the people that see us as real people think of us as psycho criminals... not exactly the type to attract fans."

She raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes defensively. "Well it wasn't me and I don't think you guys know any other hackers so how else do you want me to explain it?"

He raises his hand to his face, disbelief and confusion extremely evident. "I don't know. But we have to figure this out. Right friggin' now. Let's go." He says, while simultaneously grabbing her shoulder and dragging her back to her room to figure this out.

* * *

Garcia is visibly shaking in fear at this point in time. "Hi M-Mary. What exactly do you want from me?"

Her face visibly tenses up, obviously frustrated. "I thought I made it very clear. Stay. Away. From. My. Boys."

Garcia audibly gulps. "But... uh... if I don't I get fired and I really like my job."

She tilts her head, confusion starting to form. "And what is it exactly that you do? Catch big criminals in the confines of your little office here?"

Garcia nods. "Sorta, but it's not like that."

"Well I have news for you. Sam and Dean Winchester are not criminals. They are good men. I wouldn't be here if they weren't."

 _I may not be a profiler, but this could get interesting._ "What do you mean by that? How do you know that they're good?"

"I wouldn't let them be anything else. My boys are heroes. You'd be dead if it wasn't for them."

Drinking from her tea, Garcia slightly chokes. "Excuse me?"

Mary nods. "The apocalypse happened 5 years ago, but Sam and Dean stopped it."

Garcia is surprisingly calming down. "Okay, so suppose they actually are good. How do I just stay away without getting fired?"

Mary leans in, ready to whisper in her ear. "Because I think you know what will happen if you don't." She pauses for a moment. "I'm going to pay a visit to your team now, and don't even try to turn those computers back on. They'll work just fine when you make the right decision."

She jumps out of Kevin, leaving him immensely weak and disoriented. "So what're you gonna do?"

Her head perks up, obviously happy that her friend has returned. "I'm gonna get these computers back on, and then I'm going to help catch these guys."

"I know you're not one for normalcy, but even you have to admit that that's crazy."

They make direct eye contact for a few seconds. "Kevin, I'm doing what I think is right. Don't try and stop me."

Words start to appear on the screens: two distinct sentences on two different screens.

 **Wrong choice.**

 **You'll regret this.**

* * *

Charlie and Dean sit at the desk in her room. He clears his throat, feeling slightly uncomfortable due to his lack of knowledge in the field of hacking. "So, um… who do you think could've done this? You're the only hacker I know."

She shakes her head. "I have no idea. Penelope… well she's great. I kinda never told you this but I learned a lot of what I know from her."

Dean's expressions and thoughts can only be described by one word. _Seriously?_ "And you never thought to tell me this?"

She shrugs. "I didn't think it mattered! A government server is usually just a government server. Also, I may have thought this would be that moment where the student could beat the teacher."

 _Calm down. Don't hurt her. She didn't know. It's not her fault._ "Okay, well that's obviously not today. What now?"

Sam suddenly comes bursting through the door. "Guys, you've heard the news, right?"

They nod.

"So get this, the hacker left a message on the screen, which is why they think it's connected to us. The message was then followed by a suddenly faulty electrical system. Dean, care to guess what the message was?"

"Sammy, I don't know. Just tell me."

He runs a hand through his hair, still trying to grasp what he heard. "You're not gonna believe me, but it was 'stay away from my boys.'"

Dean raises his head, looking Sam in the eye instead of looking at his hands. "Mom?"

Sam nods. "I didn't believe it at first either, but I don't know who else it could be. Dean… she's back." He says, tears starting to form in his eyes.

Dean reaches into his pocket, pulling out the photos he never leaves without. "This is unbelievable… I thought no-one could find her after that poltergeist. I thought she just vanished. How?"

 _"Sam? Sam!" Dean finds Sam. As he looks at the fire figure, he raises his gun._

 _"No, don't! Don't!"_

 _"What, why?!"_

 _"Because I know who it is. I can see her now." Suddenly, the fire vanishes. Instead, standing in front of them is Mary Winchester, exactly as she was the night she died. Dean's expression softens. In shock, he lowers his gun slowly._

 _"Mom?" Mary smiles and steps closer to him._

 _"Dean." Tears form in Dean's eyes. Mary walks away from him and goes to Sam. Dean watches her, never taking his eyes off her. "Sam." Sam smiles weakly, crying. His mother's smile fades. "I'm sorry."_

 _"For what?" She looks at him sadly, but says nothing. She walks away from them and looks up at the ceiling._

 _"You get out of my house. And let go of my son." Once again, she bursts into flames. When she is entirely engulfed, the fire reaches the ceiling and disappears._

Sam digs his hands in his pockets, trying to come off at least a little bit more relaxed than his brother. "It's hard to say."

"We have to find her."

Suddenly all of the lights in the bunker start to flicker and the temperature significantly drops. Charlie clears her throat. "She's here." She says, as a woman approaches them from down the hallway.

As they walk over to her, Dean clutches the photos so tight that they might even be destroyed. "Mom?"

She meets them halfway and they try their best to pull her into a hug. "Sam. Dean. My little boys are all grown up."

All is silent, but Sam and Dean are visibly crying tears of joy.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here now, you're safe."


End file.
